


every melody is timeless

by Sorator



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gifts, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Gen, Magic, gifted AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13539225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorator/pseuds/Sorator
Summary: It wasn’t his fault that they never quite understood what he meant when he said he had a Gift for it.





	every melody is timeless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Putthebiscuitinthebasket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Putthebiscuitinthebasket/gifts).



> Because I was told the world needed more Carter Hart fic, and I had an idea.

It was a tough game, the team playing their hearts out but just not quite clicking. Passes didn’t connect, shots kept hitting the posts, and they took a too-many-men penalty in the third when a line change went south. Carter had tried to hold down the fort, but a few found their way past him, just enough for a two-goal loss. He shuffled side to side as he waited in the line of players leaving through the tunnel, antsy to ditch his gear and wash the game off himself.

He didn’t have any post-game media to deal with, at least not tonight. So, no one objected when he grabbed his stuff and slipped out, heading not for the exit, but into the maze of hallways beneath the arena. Fortunately enough, they were playing at home, so he knew where he could go, what space he could use to settle down before heading home.

He stepped into a large room with concrete walls and stacks of equipment scattered around, closing the doors behind him. He dropped his gear nearby, walked to the center of the room, and took a deep breath. Cupping his hands in front of him, he focused.

Small dots of color appeared in the air, softly glowing, then dying away, accompanied by the chimes of a music box. A voice began to sing about symphonies, melodies, keys, and heartbeats, as he glided his hands through the air, drawing shapes in colored lights, some lasting, others fading when his fingers left them.

He traced the outline of a butterfly, which took flight as a thrumming bass line started up. Strings rose as the butterfly fluttered through the lines he still drew, until it came to rest on a sketch of a flower hanging in the air. As it settled on the flower’s petals, Carter spun on the ball of his foot, the song crescendoed, and the room burst into a breathtaking display of colors.

Carter wove a path through the room, light springing from his fingertips to bathe the walls in crimson and purple, green and gold, leaving a mosaic that shifted with the snap of his hips and the pounding beat of the song. Then the music calmed, and he returned to the butterfly, tracing fields of flowers and trees and streams for it to fly over and through, until the music rose again. He twisted a path through the stacks, painting them blue and silver as he leaped and spun, until the music fell again.

After a while, the song came to an end, his lights twinkling out as the final chimes sound, and he was left standing in the dimly-lit concrete room. He took a moment to just breathe, mind clear of all but the echoes of his music. When he felt his muscles begin to protest their overuse, he gathered his things and headed out. Now he could go home.

* * *

When the media asked about how he handled the stress of hockey, he grinned and talked about his breakfast tradition. It was the sort of story they were looking for; cute and quirky, befitting his young stature. Occasionally, someone would press further, looking for a more serious answer, and he’d talk about having to find ways to blow off steam, that every goalie needs to be able to put each period behind him and focus on what comes next.

It wasn’t his fault that they never quite understood what he meant when he said he had a Gift for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Not what I had in mind for my first fic, but the idea grabbed me and wouldn't let go, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> The song that inspired this, as well as the origin of the title, is [Symphony by Clean Bandit, featuring Zara Larsson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-6na1EPTNw).


End file.
